Burning Bridges
by Acherubis
Summary: Anders runs away from Vigil's Keep. Rated M for death and gore.


_Aren't you supposed to be dead?_

_That's the rumor. But I didn't come here to swap stories with you._

This little conversation between Stroud and Anders in DA2 made me wonder how that rumor came to pass.

**Burning Bridges**

_"Burning bridges one by one  
What I'm doin' can't be undone  
And I'm always hoping someday  
I'm gonna stop this runnin' 'round  
But every time the chance comes up  
Another bridge goes down."_

_"Burning Bridges" – Garth Brooks_

.

The darkspawn attacked us out of nowhere. It happens sometimes. The tunnels below run close to the surface in this region. Every now and then, they will spout some filth and we are there to clean it up. This time it has been an exceptionally large band and it took us quite some time to get in control of the situation but we managed. Most of the darkspawn are dead now and the few who aren't flee back into the Deep Roads.

I am alone now, in a barn where I have been fighting alongside one of my comrades. He did not make it, though, and I find myself staring at his dead body to my feet. He was a good man and there is a fleeting stab of regret for his death and another, slightly more prominent one of guilt for what I am about to do.

Tonight I will leave Vigil's Keep, the only place in the world where I felt at least remotely at home for a while. I have stayed here for far too long. Longer than I ever dared to stay in any other place. It is time for me to go.

I've been feeling restless for quite some time now. The walls of the fortress that have been shelter for more than a year suddenly feel hostile. I feel uncomfortable in the company of my fellow wardens especially since the arrival of a bunch of templars who requested to undergo the joining.

The Commander refused them and I know she did it on my behalf but the feeling of being watched won't go away anymore. Those templars only served to harden my resolve that I have to leave. There will be more coming. It is a small miracle that the chantry did not send someone to our doorstep earlier. They always find ways to observe you, control you and since I am out of their reach because I am a warden, they now start sending templars with the intention to make them wardens, too. But by the time they achieve that goal I will already be gone. I've only been waiting for an opportunity and here it is.

I have to be fast now. Any minute, someone can find me and my chance will be wasted.

I start stripping my dead comrade of his armor and clothing. I'm glad he is about the same height and built as I am. That will make things easier and more believable. Once I'm done, I put the pieces of the armor into an empty oat sack I find in a corner and get rid of my robes. As quickly as I can, I put the man's shirt and breeches on. I shiver when the bloodied, wet cloth touches my skin but it will have to suffice until I can steal something else. There is no way I can sneak back into the Keep to pack a bundle or anything so I will have to do without coin or additional supplies. It is inconvenient but nothing that I did not do before. I've been through tighter spots.

I kneel down and put my robes on the corpse. It's not an easy task because he is already starting to get cold and I curse under my breath. This is taking too long! My eyes dart about the barn frantically and I strain my ears for any sound that announces unwelcome company but all I hear is the faint noise of battle somewhere in the distance. Good. That means I still have time.

Finally, I succeed in my efforts and reach up to take out the golden ring in my earlobe. It is too significant and will certainly raise questions if it is missing on the body. My comrade did not wear such adornments and I clench my jaw when I have to forcefully drive the ring through his flesh. It is a rough job at best but that will not matter once I am done. I let my eyes dart over my handiwork for a few moments, checking if I did not forget anything important but no, everything is in place.

Everything but one last detail.

I raise my hands to the leather band around my neck and find that they are trembling. I blame it on the adrenalin that rushes through my system for fear of getting caught. I am not willing to admit that there is a whole other reason. Not yet. Not right now when I need to keep my wits about me.

The pendant falls into my palm and it is a feeling as if it burns my skin. I don't look at it even though I want to. It will only remind me of the one thing I dread to loose and I can't afford that right now.

It is harder than I expected to tie the band around a dead man's neck, still shaky fingers slipping twice before I manage a decent knot. My throat tightens and my eyes burn but that surely is just the result of the waves of smoke that drift through the barn from outside every now and then. I pick my staff up from the ground and step back. Energy, calming and comforting, floods through me as I draw upon the fade and set the man who is supposed to be me on fire.

The stench of charring flesh and scorching hair makes my stomach revolt but I stay and watch. I have to make sure that the body is burned enough to be unrecognizable for the most part and that only the leads I left on it can be identified. At last, I grab the old oak sack and let the staff fall beside the corpse. I don't feel too comfortable parting with it but the picture has to be perfect.

My legs feel heavy as I turn around and sneak out into the night through a side entrance.

I am dead now. Nobody will come looking for me.

As quickly and quietly as I can I seek out the dirt path behind the barn that leads up a steep hill. It is hidden from sight by thick bushes and small trees and only those who look for it would be able to find it. Yet I have to be careful. There is always a chance of too keen eyes detecting me despite the good cover. Only when I am on the other side of the hill will I be able to move more freely and if I keep walking all night I will have reached Amaranthine by morning.

The climb is difficult even more so with the heavy sack I have still to get rid of. The path is wet and slick from the rain in the early evening and my feet slip various times but I keep going. I don't have time to look for another way. Two thirds up the hill I hear the first shouts of alarm down at the barn. So they found the body. It did not take them long but I did not expect it would. I think I hear Nathaniel's voice among the men and I find myself praying that she is not with him. The thought of her seeing the broken body that now is Anders makes my heart ache. But there is no way for me to prevent that just as there is no way to change the deed.

I need to concentrate on my escape. I have to keep moving. My legs are already burning from the strain of struggling my way further up. This is more difficult than I thought it would be but again I set my jaw and keep going. When I finally reach the top, I hide behind one of the more sturdy trees and allow myself a moment to catch my breath.

It is then that I hear a cry of anguish.

I've only heard that kind of scream once and I furiously wished I would never ever hear it again. It is the kind of scream that makes your blood run cold, filled with the despair and the grief of a whole world breaking apart.

I close my eyes and try to take a deep breath but my throat is too tight and my chest feels as if an iron weight presses down on it. My hands clench into fists as I try to reign in the storm of emotions I feel coming on. This is what I've been afraid of; my feelings catching up with me too soon. To know that she's suffering because of me weighs heavy on my conscience and it breaks my heart. I never wanted to hurt her but I know there was no way around it. Maybe that is the hardest and most painful thing to admit. That I knew from the start how it would end and did nothing about it when I still had the chance.

I force my back off the tree and my feet to take one step and then another. It doesn't matter anymore. I have made my choice and at least there is a clean cut. She will not be bitter about me leaving. She will not have to wonder why I did not stay with her or if it was her fault. That stubborn, hot-headed, little imp is strong. She will grieve for me as I will grieve for her but eventually, we will both move on. It's better that way, I tell myself and in time I will believe it and so I blind out the sobs and the cries that are still riding on the wind and start to run.


End file.
